Rhiannon
by emperorHikaru
Summary: The summer after fifth year, a mysterious girl greets Harry in the park. Afterwords, he stumbles on a new world, where magic doesn't seem so straightforward, and Harry's skills, magical and mundane, get challenged constantly.
1. Rhiannon

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any other piece of copyright material referenced in this work.

Chapter 1

To say that Uncle Vernon was angry was an understatement. His face had turned the puce that it normally became after dealing with wizards, and spittle flew out of his mouth as he muttered a rant about "freaks" trying to "push him around" under his breath.

As Harry's small family came to their car, Uncle Vernon opened the driver's door and got in, as did Aunt Petunia. As Harry couldn't store his trunk in the boot of the car and get in as quickly as they could just get in, it wasn't long before Uncle Vernon was screaming at him.

"Hurry up, boy!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

After Harry got in the car, his Uncle peeled out of the parking lot quickly, getting on the highway as quickly. The tension in the car began to mount, with Uncle Vernon nearly foaming at the mouth, and Aunt Petunia sitting in stony silence. Harry squirmed uncomfortably. Not far into the journey, Uncle Vernon directed his comments to Harry directly.

"Listen here boy. There's no way I'll let your freak friends tell me what to do. You will write that letter to them every month, I don't want them coming and bothering us."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"When your not doing your extra chores this summer, you'll be in your room, quiet."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"You'll only be allowed to keep that ruddy bird in my house because otherwise you won't be able to send the freaks your letter. I'll be making sure you write one once a month, and that thing won't be allowed out any other time. Got that?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"You'd better. If I find out that the freaks are coming to bother us, you'll be lucky if they get here in time to find you."

Harry gulped, and Aunt Petunia stiffened a little. However, the conversation, if one could call it that, was obviously done, and Uncle Vernon had deflated a bit, apparently having found his mood lifted after contemplating how he was going to get out of dealing with freaks all summer.

After a thoroughly uncomfortable trip for everyone involved, the car pulled up to number 4, Pivet Drive. Harry got out, bringing Hedwig's cage with him. He moved to open the boot, trying to get his trunk. However, his Uncle cut him off.

"Oh no you don't, boy. I'm locking this thing up _myself_. Give me that stick, and get on up to your room, I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

Harry, having surrendered his wand, retreated upstairs, his Aunt right behind him. His last view of his Uncle for the night was of Vernon, red-faced, lugging the trunk in the direction of the broom cupboard.

Harry went into his room, still holding Hedwig's cage, and closed his door. Immediately, his Aunt locked it, with the locks that had been installed last summer. Harry put Hedwig's cage on his desk, and collapsed on his meager bed. He hadn't been able to think about Sirius's death since he got off the train, as he was too afraid in the presence of his angry uncle. Now, however, the thoughts poured in.

It was all his fault. If Harry hadn't run into danger headfirst, or had at least remembered the bloody mirror that now sat, broken, at the bottom of his trunk, then his godfather wouldn't be dead. It crossed his mind that Bellatrix deserved her share of the blame too, but she seemed like a force of nature. Like a disease, it could be eradicated, but it couldn't take responsibility for what it killed. Bellatrix was going to kill, that was her nature, and there couldn't be anything done about that. However, to put his godfather in harm's way was a horrible idea.

After a while, Harry's depressed musings caused him to view the scene of his godfather's death in his mind. He could see the look of shock on Sirius's face as he realized that he was going to fall through the veil of death, the ghastly look of triumphant glee on Bellatrix's visage. Soon, these visions morphed into the nightmares of an uneasy sleep.

Harry was woken up by a sound. He could tell that it had been a couple of hours, as the room had gotten darker, and the light streaming in the windows had a definitive reddish hue. Harry looked around for the source of the sound that had waken him, and found a tray with a bowl of soup and a piece of paper on it laying on the floor, next to the cat flap that had been put there for just that purpose. Harry took the tray to the desk, setting next to Hedwig. He picked up the spoon that was sitting on the folded piece of paper, and began eating the tomato soup. It was hot; that was more than he expected after his Uncle's threats earlier.

As he ate, he opened the piece of paper that was on the tray. It was a list of chores that he was expected to do this summer. It looked as if his family really was planning to win that lawn competition this summer, as well as several gardening ones. Not only that, but it looked as if his Uncle planned to have a new shed build this summer.

Harry gave the piece of bread that had been on the tray to Hedwig. It wasn't as good for her as a rodent would be, but it would keep her from starving if she could only go out once a month this summer. Hopefully, he could convince his family of that soon, and Hedwig would be allowed to go out and hunt.

After eating, Harry undressed and fell back onto his bed. He didn't have much else to do, as all his stuff was in the cupboard downstairs, no doubt padlocked. Even if it wasn't, Harry himself wasn't able to get out of his room without the use of magic, and his wand was downstairs as well. He soon fell back into his uneasy sleep.

The next morning, he was woken as his Aunt unlocked the door. "Get dressed boy, you need to do your chores."

Harry rolled out of bed, and put on some of Dudley's over sized hand me downs. The belt, as usual, was wrapped several times around to hold up his pants. He went ahead and used the bathroom before heading downstairs.

As Harry went through the kitchen to get to the back door, he saw his Aunt cleaning up after breakfast. She stopped him, however.

"Go ahead and make my breakfast, I didn't have time to eat this morning. I went ahead and left the ingredients there."

Harry's eyes widened. His aunt never ate that much food! And there were two plates sitting out for him to serve on.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Harry went ahead and fixed them both a breakfast of eggs, scrambled with cheese, green onions, and bacon, served with toast and Orange Juice. His Aunt seemed to be pretending not to notice as he sat down across the table from her to eat himself, instead opening that day's _Telegraph_ to the gossip section. After eating, he washed both their dishes and went outside to begin working on his chores.

Harry began by weeding the garden. It was obvious that nobody had done so all year, and it took him several hours to weed the back garden. When he was done, it was nearly time for lunch, and his Aunt called him in to make lunch for her as she sat, reading her latest trashy romance novel, at the kitchen table.

Harry, not sure if what happened at breakfast could be repeated, made her a sandwich, with ham and mayonnaise. She didn't object when she saw him making a second one, and she pretended once again not to notice when he ate. He cleaned up after both of them, and went back outside to continue his work.

A few hours later, his Aunt once again called him in. "Come on inside, boy. And go take a shower, you smell horrible. When you're done with that, go ahead and head to your room. I'll give you some soup for supper." 

Harry headed up to the bathroom near his bedroom and closed the door. Once inside, he stripped, and turned on the shower. After a couple of minutes, it was warm enough to step into, and he did just that. He scrubbed himself clean, feeling more than slightly puzzled as to his Aunt's behavior that day.

After his shower, Harry headed to his room and shut the door. Soon enough he heard it lock, and he didn't expect to see any of his family for the rest of the day. He desperately wished that he could see his friends, but he wasn't even allowed to send them mail. His uncle wouldn't even consider him having writing material of any sort, afraid that he'd tell "the freaks" something that would make them come running. Even a journal or diary was out of the question.

It wasn't long until Harry saw his Uncle's car come up the drive, and the walrus himself come storming in. He heard the door downstairs slam, and his Uncle bellow.

"Where is that damn boy! The bloody chores aren't done!"

Surprisingly, Petunia's voice rose in opposition. "He worked hard all day, Vernon. I sent him upstairs for the night."

"I don't care how long or hard he worked, Pet. The freak can't even meet his goals. His free riding days are over!"

Harry was staring at his bedroom door right now, wide-eyed, as he listened to the fight his guardians were having. If his Aunt Petunia didn't stop his uncle, Harry's life was sure to be even more uncomfortable soon.

"What are you planning to do to him, Vernon?"

"I'm going to beat some obedience into him, that's what I'm going to do!"

"Vernon, if you do that, the neighbors might notice! And the freaks certainly will. I'll watch and make sure he works all day, hard as he can, don't you worry."

There was a pause in the conversation here, and the tension in the air was palpable. After a few moments in which Harry was sure Uncle Vernon was grinding his teeth, he heard what he swore had to be some of the best words in the English language.

"Alright, Pet. We don't want the freaks coming here and messing in our lives."

"Don't worry, Vernon. He won't freeload, I'll make sure of that."

With that, Harry heard the sound of his relatives go to get themselves dinner. At precisely 6:30, he received a bowl of soup and some bread, which he shared with Hedwig. Soon after eating, Harry fell back into his bed and into his normal, nightmare ridden sleep.

The next several days went by similarly. Harry's Aunt seemed to be nicer to him then normal; she allowed him to eat full meals with her, and while she watched over him working between breakfast and lunch, she wouldn't keep a strict eye on him after lunch, often going off to take a nap for two to three hours in the afternoon.

That Saturday, he wrote his first letter to the order. It was a very simple note. "Hello everyone, doing well. I'm very busy, I'll be sure to write within a month, though. Signed, Harry". This was quickly approved by his Uncle, who wanted to deal with him as little as possible, and Hedwig flew off to the north, where Hogwarts lay.

The next week proceeded much like the one previous, with Harry mostly working outside, except for cooking meals for himself and his Aunt Petunia. As Harry worked, quickly the outside work got done, and he realized that soon he wouldn't have a reason to spend much of his time out of his Aunt's watchful view anymore.

On Wednesday, with much of the work done, Harry decided to take a chance. His Aunt hadn't poked her head outside since lunch, and it was near two o'clock already. She would likely be taking a nap soon, and Harry figured that he would get out of the house.

Even with how much he hated this neighborhood, and the shallow, cardboard like people who lived there, Harry found he much preferred to be able to walk around like this. It wasn't long before his feet found themselves walking to the small park not far from Pivet Drive, about five to ten minutes walk from his house.

Reaching the shady park, Harry found that it was all but deserted. There was a teenage couple down on one end, and on the other was a small playground, which hosted a swing set, a merry-go-round, and a small jungle gym. Surprisingly, there were no children here today, probably because it was the hottest day so far this summer. Harry decided to take advantage of the relative silence and took a seat in one of the swings.

His thoughts soon turned to Sirius Black. One of the few nice consequences of the large amount of work that his family had given him was that it kept his mind off of the fight at the ministry, leaving that for his dreams.

He sat there for a while, not really keeping track of how much time had passed. After a while, he heard some feet crunch in the gravel that littered the ground surrounding him, and he looked up from his thoughts about Sirius to see a girl, about his age, approach him, and take a seat on the swing next to him.

She, like Harry, didn't swing, but simply sat there. She had straight, black hair, and appeared to be maybe a year or two older than Harry. The stranger thing was that Harry didn't recognize her. He had attended school with everyone from this area until he turned 11, and he thought that he knew all of the people around his age who lived there. Not like he had any _friends_ that lived there, or anything. Just, he knew them.

'Oh, well,' he thought. 'I suppose she could have moved here in the five years since I started going to Hogwarts. I've not exactly kept up with the neighborhood gossip.'

Just as Harry's thoughts were starting to leave this girl that sat next to him, and return to the fight at the ministry ('I wonder how Hermione's doing? She was injured pretty badly...'), the girl next to him spoke, and for some reason it was the last thing he expected her to say.

"Hello, Harry."

He should have expected it really. He really should have. The Order of the Phoenix would be keeping a watch on him, and it wasn't exactly like there weren't hundreds of other wizards – death eaters, say – that would love to see him unprepared. Although, Dumbledore's wards were supposed to cover this park, at least enough to keep a dark witch from just _walking up to him_.

"... Tonks, is that you?"

"No, who's that?"

Well, that put an end to that theory. The shape shifter was full of surprises, he was hoping it was her. Especially since he didn't have a way to defend himself, what with his wand being locked in the cupboard under the stairs and all.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Rhiannon. You are Harry Potter. It is nice to meet you."

Something of her speech pattern reminded Harry of Luna; this put him further off his guard. He didn't like that, and the moment he caught himself dropping it, he increased it twofold.

On another note, the Welsh accent should have given away the fact that it wasn't Tonks. There were many things that Tonks wasn't, but by golly, she was English.

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Can I ask why you are here? Did Dumbledore send you?"

"Dumbledore? No, don't be silly. I am not part of his group."

"Then what are you doing here? Are you one of Voldemort's?"

"Now you're just being crass! No, no, I'm from a different group entirely. Tell me, you know now that there are two worlds: the normal, muggle world, and the wizarding world living right under the muggles nose, weaved in with their cities like some sort of strange cloth. How many other worlds do you think there are?"

"Er..." Truthfully, he hadn't thought about it. It made sense that there might be others, but he was happy with just the two that he had – crappy though they may be. After an awkward beat, he spoke.

"I didn't really expect to be quizzed. Especially from somebody who has yet to tell me why she's here!"

She laughed, a cool, clear sound. "How do you expect me to explain if I don't know what you know? Though it seems as if you know nothing of my world, so I suppose I shall explain.

"As you know, the wizarding world is run by a group of people called the wizengamot, mostly hereditary seats, but sometimes given out for exceptional work, as is the case for the current supreme mugwump, Albus Dumbledore. It's rather similar to the muggle's house of lords.

"It is also run by people who rely on one understanding of magic. One theory of magic, but more importantly, on only certain ways of accessing that magic: through wand work and potions. Do you understand so far?"

Harry nodded yes. Most of this made some sort of sense, though he had never really thought about it before. He had heard of other ways of doing magic, wandless and the like, but he had always heard them referred to as the hardest to do, and with not much result; a wizard without a wand was little better than a muggle.

"Now, that didn't happen out of nowhere. The type of magic that is most common in Britain, and indeed, in Europe and much of the world, is Roman style magic, though it had it's beginnings in ancient Greece. With the Roman takeover of Britain came the magical rule of those who practiced Roman magic. However, there were others that had their own styles of magic, and they didn't all convert.

"Instead, many of them went underground. In much of Britain, and parts of mainland Europe, the native styles of magic were Celtic style, and all share some heritage, though they do differ somewhat. Irish wizards don't cast spells in the same ways that Scottish warlocks do.

"Putting the subtle differences of the different Celtic magical traditions aside, their common heritage allowed them to live in the woods, and among the muggle people, in a way that the Romans couldn't. So we began to have our own, smaller communities, on the edge of the muggle world, much closer to it than the Romans did.

"Over the years, many others have left magical society for reasons of their own. Some were politically against the system that the wizarding world put them into: royalists, anarchists, and the like. Some muggleborns end up finding us too, and they are welcomed in a way that they are not in either the wizarding or muggle worlds. There are many other reasons."

Harry nodded slowly. The information was quite a bit to take in. However...

"Alright. But that doesn't explain why you are here."

"Then I shall continue. The terrors of the one you refer to as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' or 'You-Know-Who'..."

"His name is Voldemort."

Rhiannon smiled, warmly. She seemed genuinely glad to hear him say that. "Alright then, Voldemort. His has spilled over into our world. Right now, the ministry and the wizengamot are perfectly happy to turn a blind eye to those protected by our community. Pretend that we don't exist, so to speak. Not that we are appreciated or recognized, but they have no wish to stop us currently.

"However, Voldemort wants every magic user under his rule, and every muggle under theirs, or not alive at all. Those of us that don't accept the wizarding world will be converted or eradicated. So, a small group of us have banded together to work against him."

"How small?"

"Currently, there are less than ten of us."

"That few? How big is your community?"

"Not that small, but it is several orders of magnitude smaller than that of the wizarding community. However, you must recognize that we are a mostly decentralized community; there may very well be more groups like ours."

"Alright. So, you claim to fight Voldemort. You still haven't told me why you are here."

"Ah, yes. You see, our reasoning goes as such: you are obviously at the center of this war. You are important to both sides of the war: Dumbledore wants to protect you, and Voldemort wants to kill you. It appears that both believe that you are significant to the war effort. So, you might benefit from knowing something that not many others do."

This struck Harry. Knowing whatever art this girl's group could teach may very well count as "the power he knows not". However, the timing seemed almost too serendipitous, almost suspicious.

"How do I know that you're not working with Voldemort? I wouldn't put it past him to lead me into a trap." 

"If I was, why wouldn't I have subdued you already? You don't have a wand."

That stumped him. There really was no good reason he could think of.

"I don't know. But that doesn't make me trust you any more." Okay, so he fibbed. Though, he didn't really trust her more, so much as he distrusted her less. So it wasn't really a lie.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can give you a portkey that leads you right back here. Here, I'll even show you." She took out a small river stone, and with the words "little whinging park", she disappeared, only to reappear climbing out of a small cove of trees nearby, to where she had presumably been transported, out of sight.

"I also have a hotel key for you, payed through the summer, and a portkey to the hotel itself. You can have all three." She handed him a key and a small stick in addition to the river rock that she had before. As she was touching it with her bare skin to hand it to him, he decided that the likelihood that it he would disappear the moment he touched them was low. And, much to his relief, he didn't, as he noted, stuffing the items in his left hand trouser pocket. He looked up and found that Rhiannon was now handing him some papers.

"The receipts. For the hotel room. Even if you decide not to trust me, you have a place to stay away from here."

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely.

The strange girl grinned. "Very good. Now, let's go get your wand."

She took off with a purpose towards street, intent on heading to Harry's relatives house. After a few moments of shock at her sudden assertiveness, he took off after her. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, my Aunt's home."

Rhiannon never broke stride. "That won't be a problem."

"You're not going to hurt her?" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Not at all." Rhiannon seemed slightly surprised at the idea. But it didn't cause her to break stride. 

They were silent for the rest of the walk there, though Harry almost had to jog to keep up with the determined Welsh girl, who seemed to be humming a little under her breath. She walked up to the door, reached out her hand, and twisted the doorknob without bothering to knock. She walks right in, ignoring Harry's spluttering about being rude and how his Aunt and Uncle were going to kill the both of them.

Once inside, Rhiannon had him point out the cupboard under the stairs, and then headed straight there, where again, she opened the door without bothering to unlock anything. The slide lock burst open as she was reaching for the door. Harry glanced into the kitchen, and he could see his Aunt drinking tea and reading the newspaper, not seeming to notice the girl who was now listing the items she was stacking outside the cupboard quite noisily.

"Why doesn't Aunt Pet-"

"She won't notice us. As far as she's concerned, we're not here. Now, is this everything?"

Harry looked at the small pile of stuff there. There was his trunk, and the broom that meant so much more to him now then it had not even two months ago: the Firebolt that Sirius had given Harry in Harry's third year.

"Almost. Hedwig's cage is upstairs."

"Hedwig... Your bird?"

"Yes, a snowy owl."

"Alright, run upstairs and get it. And don't be to long. He may not be able to see us, but I don't want to dodge around your uncle."

Harry was already bounding up the stairs before she said this last sentence, but that made him move even quicker. However, he did take the time to steal a sheet of paper and jot down a note to his family explaining that he had met some new friends and not to expect him back anytime soon. He ran back down, and placed it on the coffee table just as Rhiannon was picking up his Firebolt. Grabbing the handle of his trunk, Harry headed out the door after her.

The two headed down the street, looking for the edge of the wards. Feeling them pass, they stopped, and Rhiannon reached her hand out to grab Harry's arm. As soon as they disappeared, Harry swore that he saw his Uncle's car turning on the street.


	2. Spread Your Wings

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any other copywrited material referenced in this work.

I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a while. It still doesn't seem quite right somehow, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

* * *

><p><p>

Chapter 2

Harry and Rhiannon landed in a small, run down urban neighborhood. The houses creaked, and some even had their windows boarded up. They were in the yard of one house, which was a small wooden two-story number, painted an interesting shade of light blue. It was unique without attracting an undue amount of attention. Harry immediately reached into his trunk and pulled out his wand, wishing that he had done so earlier. Professor Moody would be mad at him.

By the time he latched the trunk and looked up, Rhiannon – and his Firebolt – were on the porch of the house that belonged to the yard Harry was currently occupying. Grabbing his belongings, Harry hurried up to join her, dropping his trunk and Hedwig's cage to raise his wand when Rhiannon knocked on the door.

Harry thought that he was ready for anything. However, he wasn't prepared for the door to be flung open and a... bigger older man to come barreling out, sweeping up Rhiannon in a bear hug.

"Rhiannon! Wonderful to see you as always. How was Wales?"

"It was fine, Bernie." Rhiannon had a small smile on her face. Bernard, or Bernie, as she called him, always acted like she was gone into hell when she spent time in Wales. The fact that she spent half of her time there didn't seem to phase him.

"And you must be Harry." The greeting wasn't as exuberant as it had been for the Welsh witch – a fact that Harry thanked every deity that he could think of for – but there was an unmistakable twinkle of life in the man's deep blue eyes. He reached out his hand, and Harry returned the favor, shaking it firmly.

"Yes, sir, I am."

A chuckle came from deep with in the belly of 'Bernie'. "And well-mannered too! I am Bernard, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am the humble owner of this establishment."

With that, he stepped aside, allowing Rhiannon to step inside. When he saw Harry reach down to pick up his belongings, Bernard swooped down to pick up the cage. Harry stepped inside, Bernard right behind, and the door closed behind them.

Harry looked around the living room that they'd walked into. It looked bigger than he expected, but magic could explain that. There were several people sitting in the room. In a large chair sat a young man, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, who was writing in what appeared to be a small blue journal with a fountain pen. Sitting at a table positioned in the corner was another woman, about the same age who seemed to be cleaning a pistol of all things. This surprised him, he hadn't seen anything to make him think he'd left the country. Bernard had a Londoner's accent.

Sitting on a larger tale was a strange board with white and black stones on it. It looked like a game, but there were no players in site. On second glance, Harry realized that a chair had pulled away from the table in front of the games. Maybe Bernard had been playing some form of solitaire?

"Rhiannon has returned, and she brought young Harry here with her."

At that statement, the other two stopped their motions. The woman put down the gun, with the cleaner still in the barrel. "She actually got him to come with her? How did she manage that?"

Rhiannon walked over to a couch situated near the young man, who was still holding his journal, though it was now shut, and his pen was on the small end table between his chair and it's pair. She flopped onto the couch, with her head held up by the armrest.

"Dumbledore's kept him all locked away with some very nasty-seeming muggles for the summer. I think anyone short of marked death eaters could have collected him and he would have gladly come." 

Harry stood in the entrance awkwardly. He didn't appreciate being talked about as if he wasn't here, but he didn't know anyone here well enough to say anything. Bernard seemed to notice this, and took pity on the teen. "Why don't you just set your stuff by the door here, Harry. I'd offer you a room, but the only room downstairs is mine, and the entire upstairs has been taken over by mad scientists."

Harry set his stuff down, but the confusion must have shown on his face at the mention of the top floor being taken over by mad scientists. There was a bit of laughter, and the writer spoke for the first time since Harry had been here. "Don't worry about it, you'll find out soon enough. I expect we'll be having that meeting now, Bernard?"

"That we will. Into the kitchen, all of you. I'll go get the sci-fi escapees," Bernard said, slipping up stairs.

Rhiannon sighed and dragged herself up again, heading through the doorway that was just behind the girl cleaning the gun, who was also heading through the door. Harry started towards it when he realized that the other young man in the room was approaching him.

"My name's Simon. It's nice to meet you." Simon reached out his hand, and Harry shook it.

"Harry. Nice to meet you as well."

"Thank you. Sorry, I know that it must seem strange to you. Come on in, I'll introduce you to everybody."

Simon lead Harry through the door, and entered a large kitchen, half of which was set up with as a dining room with a long oval table, the others were sitting around it, minus Bernard. Simon gestured to Rhiannon.

"Alright you already know Rhiannon, and this is-" His gesture had moved to the unknown female.

"I'm Jen. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Erm, Harry. It's good to meet both of you, too."

Jen offered the seat next to her for Harry, and Simon took the seat next to Rhiannon, with Alice on his other side. Together, they took up half the table, leaving five more seats on the other side. After a beat, Jen took the initiative to start the conversation. "I'm sure that you must have many questions, Harry. Feel free to ask anything."

Turning to her, Harry decided that, as he couldn't think of a nice way of asking, he'd throw decorum out the window and just ask. "Was that a gun in there earlier?" 

The blunt question didn't even seem to phase her. "Yes, I never did think too much about that pesky ban."

"But aren't you... y'know..."

"Magical? Yes, I am. Went to Hogwarts, actually, as a Ravenclaw. Simon there was a Hufflepuff."

"But then why bother with guns at all?"

"Several reasons, Harry. When handled by a skilled practitioner, a gun is at least as effective a weapon as a wand, and it's one that most witches and wizards don't expect. Especially purebloods. Second of all, it's a sport, and on that trains you in concentration, aim, and discipline; all of which are good for wand work as well. And, at the end of the day, I like guns."

This was said with the practiced ease of somebody who had said it, or a variation thereupon, many times before.

"So are you guys all part of this 'edge society' or whatever?"

Simon smiled. "Pretty much. Jen and I are muggleborn, and we were best friends in Hogwarts. I got tired of getting kicked around in the wizarding world, so I decided to go rejoin muggle society. Jen and I got a flat together, so that we could continue practicing magic at home. Pretty soon, we had met a couple of others like us, mostly through other muggleborns that we knew. Turns out there's more than a few of us out there, and we had a part in this world."

Rhiannon smiled. "You already know why I'm not part of the wizarding world. Bernard was raised in our society, his parents left, and he stays away from the wizarding world for political reasons. The terrible twosome upstairs are technomancers, they don't exactly get along in your society."

Harry thought about what he knew of Mr Weasley's job, and realized that they probably wouldn't. "Are those the 'mad scientists', then?"

"You're new, so I'll let that slide, once," came a feminine voice from behind Harry. Simon visibly flinched, and Harry turned around.

Behind him stood a middle-aged woman, in greasy, torn-up cloths, with her hands on her hips and her long, light burnett hair tied up out of her face. Around her neck were a pair of safety goggles. Beside her stood a boy around Harry's age, wearing jeans and a black tee-shirt, looking a lot more casual than anyone else here. Bernard was heading to the seat opposite Rhianon, who was sitting at the end of the table.

Harry hastily apologized, and the woman told him that it was alright, then took a seat, as did the boy with her. They sat next to Alice and Jen, respectively, leaving Bernard with two empty chairs next to him. He smiled.

"These are Angie and Rod, they're the final members of the team. I hope that you've been introduced to everyone?"

When he got an affirmative response, he smiled and continued. "Good. In that case, I suppose that we should get down to business. Rhiannon, why don't you bring us up to date on what Harry knows?"

"I'm afraid he only knows the basics. I've told him about myself and the culture that I come from. But he doesn't know much else."

"Alright. Well, to start with, I'll go more in detail of this little group. I was raised in this society, by parents that left because they were pro-muggle activists. They wanted us to have a closer relationship with the muggle government, and to allow wizarding charities to work with muggles. I stay away because I disagree with the whole of the magical government. It was Rhiannon and I that hatched this little idea.

"Jen and Simon are muggleborn. They left when Simon was unable to find a decent job out of Hogwarts. Much of the magical economy is still based on land-ownership, and he was relegated to be little better than a serf, or a paper-pusher in the Ministry of Magic. They decided to take their chances in the muggle world, and they actually have their A-levels. They met Rhiannon when she wandered into the small bookstore that Simon runs. She recognized the wand that he carried about as Olivander's work, and not some religious thing.

"Angie and Rod are technomancers. Angie makes mechanical devices, and Rod works with electronics. I don't really understand what they do, but much of it is illegal according to the Ministry, and a lot of what they do to make muggle technology and magic work together is not considered 'standard magical theory.'

"You follow all of that?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry had, but he was more than a little flabbergasted at the different types of magic that he had suddenly been told existed in the last 24 hours. Somehow this seemed more amazing to him then the time he was told about magic itself.

Bernard's smile brightened. "Wonderful. How much do you know about the interactions between our society and the wizarding world?"

"Not much. A lot of you do things that the wizarding world doesn't seem to like, so I can't imagine they'd be good."

Bernard gave a small nod of his head. "And you'd be right. The small portion of the wizarding world that knows that we exist doesn't much like us. For one, they see us as a threat to secrecy. Never mind that muggles would hardly ever believe us. But that's the most benign of their disputes." 

Angie spoke up. "The wizarding world is so stagnated, they can't accept innovation. You do anything new, and they're out to get you."

Rod snorted. "Says the woman trapped in the Victorian era."

Angie crossed her arms and slumped back in her chair, glaring at Rod. He continued. "She's right though. We've gotten more than our fair share of calls from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. Luckily the head there is obsessed with muggle technology, so you just give him a power supply and he ignores you for the rest of time."

Harry laughed, eyes shining. "Yeah, I know Mr Weasley. His son Ron is my best mate."

The others around the table glanced at each other significantly, stiffening slightly. Angie noticed this. "Arthur's a good guy, just not exactly aware of the world around him."

The whole table seemed to visibly relax, but the previous tension made Harry a little nervous. Rhiannon took pity on Harry. "Sorry, we know that you have friends and people that you look up to in the wizarding world. It's just... a lot of the people there have not exactly been friendly enough."

"It's alright, I understand." And he did. It didn't make him any less uncomfortable. "But Mr Weasley's in the Order, and I've never seen him discriminate against anybody, except for Death Eaters."

Bernard fielded this challenge. "I'm sure that's the case, Harry. But even Dumbledore, who many hoped would work to make that world more like ours, has worked against us at every turn. For one, he has assured Jen and Simon that they would never be welcome back in the wizarding world after 'abandoning' it, and that any progeny of either of them would not be welcome in Hogwarts or in any magical institution that he had influence in. Which is most of them, especially in Europe."

Harry's jaw dropped, and stood up. "That's horrible! I can't believe that Dumbledore would ever do that. You must be mistaken!"

"I'm not. If you like, Jen can go and get the letter she received from Dumbledore."

The very fact that they had evidence that they could show him hit him like a blow to the stomach. "No... no, that's fine." Harry sat down and put his head in his hands. Jen stood. "Maybe we should go ahead and take a quick break. Harry, would you like some tea?"

Harry nodded dejectedly, accepting it when she handed him a saucer. The others had started to drift away from the table, Bernard and Alice leaving to go play the game that had been abandoned in the sitting room. Jason had returned to his journal, and the technomancers were having an argument in the kitchen about something, it sounded like about the merits of Victorian versus modern technology. As Jen sat down with Harry, Rhiannon got off, mumbling something about wanting to see Alice beat Bernard again.

"Do you want cream or sugar?" 

"Just some sugar should be fine, thanks."

"One or two?"

"Two, please."

Jen put the sugar into Harry's cup, adding some cream to hers, and stirring it in carefully. "So, Harry. I hear that your school year ended rather badly."

Harry nodded his head again, not taking his eyes off of the teacup. "Yeah. A bunch of my friends went with me, and I let my best friends get hurt."

"Yes, I heard that two of your group got hurt pretty badly."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, they did. Hermione got hit by a curse, and Ron fell into a vat of these weird brains. He had burns all over his body where the tentacles they had touched him."

"That sounds horrible. But you know, Harry, that's not your fault."

"Yes it is! If I had checked the mirror that Sirius gave me, then they wouldn't be hurt, and he wouldn't be dead!"

Jen seemed a little taken aback by the explosion for a moment, but her face quickly became a calm and caring mask. "Who was Sirius?"

"My godfather, Sirius Black. He was innocent, you know?" 

"Really? I heard he was a convicted Death Eater? How do you know he's innocent?"

"I've seen Peter. He's a rat animagus, and he tricked everyone into thinking that Sirius had done all that stuff. But it was all him, and Sirius was locked up without a trial."

"Peter Pettigrew, really?"

"Yeah, my parents made him the secret keeper at the last second. They thought there was any way that anybody would guess it was Peter. They didn't expect Peter to become a Death Eater, though."

"I'm really sorry Harry. That must be really hard for you to go through."

"Yeah, it is. I've just been trying to keep my mind off it, y'know? But every time I think about, it's like I'm making up for the time that I wasn't."

"Yeah. I've been there before, myself. When I left the wizarding world, Simon was all I had. I hadn't spoken with my parents since my sixth year at Hogwarts, and none of my other friends from the wizarding world would speak to me anymore."

"Your parents wouldn't talk to you?"

"Having your eleven-year-old kid in a school in Scotland when you live in Nottingham isn't easy. Besides that, I was in a completely different world then them. By the time I was sixteen, it seemed like we didn't have any common ground any more. Most muggleborns struggle to keep up their relationships with their parents."

"Hermione's a muggleborn. I wonder how she gets along with her parents?"

"Does she say anything about it?" 

Harry shook his head. "Not really. She hardly talks about her parents at all. I know that they're dentists, and that they take her for a family holiday out of the country almost every year."

Jen smiled kindly. "She probably does have a hard time. A lot of people react by not talking about it as much as possible."

Harry nodded, and stared into his teacup. A couple of minutes passed in somewhat companionable silence (except for the argument between Rod and Angie, which had moved into the living room, apparently trying to get Simon to weigh in), where both sipped on their tea thoughtfully. Harry drained his, and broke the silence. "Did Dumbledore really say all of that to you?"

"I'm afraid so. I asked him if he knew any magic-friendly muggle buildings for Simon and I to get a flat in, and mentioned why. I never expected him to be so upset about it, he had always been so kind, and I had always been told that he was such a progressive."

"It's just so hard to believe."

"I know. For what it's worth, I don't think that he's doing it out of maliciousness, really. I think he legitimately believes that being so close to the muggle world would be bad for us, and that keeping most of the status quo is for the best, at least for now. He's a pureblood, he doesn't know how bad it is out there for us." Harry nodded to show his understanding.

Jen spent a couple of minutes draining her teacup, talking with Harry about Hermione and Dean, the two muggleborns that Harry probably knew best. When she was done, she collected the cups, and walked the sink, where they proceeded to wash themselves. "Do you want to continue the meeting now?"

No, he didn't want to. It all seemed like so much to find out at once. But it needed to be done."Yeah, that'd be fine."

"Alright, let me go get the others."

She walked into the living room, and came back a few minutes later with the others. Everybody took their seats around Harry. Bernard began to talk again.

"Is everybody ready to begin again?" When he didn't receive any negative response, he continued.

"Alright, so as to why we're all sitting around this table. As bad as the current status quo is for us, wizards more or less leave us alone right now. However, if Voldemort got his way, everybody that didn't practice his sort of magic would be tortured, and it would be worse than if we were all to try to join the wizarding world right now. So, we all got together to see what we could do about it.

"At first, we were one of several groups that just worked to protect those in our society from magical threats. There were some death eater attacks on squibs and muggleborns that had joined us, so we worked to prevent that. But we weren't able to do much, I'm afraid, with no legal standing whatsoever. We were only able to protect against attacks that were happening right then. We couldn't do anything to death eaters when they weren't attacking someone. And even then, we'd been threatened for hurting a death eater." Bernard shook his head.

"So, I was talking with Jen, who keeps up with affairs in your world. She mentioned that you seemed to show up in the papers about once a year as having done something amazing, but that you didn't seem to get any special training. And with these new rumors about a prophecy and you being the 'chosen one'-"

"WHAT?"

The entire table snapped to look at Harry. "That's what the papers are saying..." Bernard appeared to be confused by the strength of Harry's outburst.

"How... I shouldn't say anything. Just, forget that that ever happened. Go on."

Bernard hesitated a beat before continuing. "Well, I don't put too much stock in prophecy, but I figured that since both Voldemort and Dumbledore acted as if they believed it, so you'd be at the center of the battle. Jen agreed, so we decided to offer to train you in our various areas of expertise."

"There is a caveat, though," said Simon. "You see, we all want to have a big name that would be willing to fight against the status quo. Considering you grew up in a muggle neighborhood, and from all accounts had no problems with anybody, even dating a muggleborn-"

"I never did. Don't believe anything that evil Rita Skeeter woman writes."

"Right, anyhow, we wanted you to pledge to help recognize our society. You do that, and you get our support and training. And you can't get the type of training that Rhiannon and Alice can offer just anywhere." 

Rhiannon turned to look at him full face. "How about it Harry, will you help us?"

"I mean, I'd recognize you guys even if you didn't train me. But how will you teach me all this before Hogwarts." 

Bernard winced, and shook his head. "We won't, Harry. If you accept this offer, you'll join us, and we'll train you year round."

Harry froze, then shook his head emphatically. "I can't do that. I can't leave my friends behind. We've been through so much, they mean a lot to me."

Jen went up to go talk with Bernard, quietly enough that Harry couldn't hear what was being said. They seemed to be arguing. Eventually, Jen straightened and gave him the evil eye, and he seemed to relent.

"If you want, we can talk to the friends that you went to the ministry with. They will get the same deal you did. Sound fair?"

"Alright. But I'm not going to go on without them. I'm sorry, you all seem so nice, but if they all decide to stay, I can't come with you."

Jen spoke before Bernard could. "It's fine, we understand. Can you give us their names?"

Harry did. At the end, Bernard looked at the list, which he had jotted down, actually on a piece of notebook paper, rather than a piece of parchment. "Alright, well Xenophilius Lovegood is a good friend of mine, actually. He probably won't have any problem with it. I know of the Longbottoms, of course. My parents knew his great-grandparents, and I've met his grandmother a couple of times before."

"We know Arthur Weasley, of course, we can talk to him. But he's pretty Dumbledore-centric, I wouldn't expect to much," said Angie.

"And from what Harry said earlier, Hermione sounds a lot like you, Simon. She's going to have a lot of trouble in the next few years. If you can show that to her, she'll come."

Bernard smiled. "Good! Then it sounds like we have a plan. Simon, you can go tomorrow morning with Harry to speak with Hermione and her family, then you can go talk with Xenophilius. I'll meet you there, along with Angie. She and Harry can go talk to the Weasleys, and then he and I will go speak with Madam Longbottom. How's that sound Harry."

"That sounds fine. Erm... can I ask a question?"

A warm smile on Bernard's face. "Sure, go ahead."

"How does your society view... werewolves?" 

A significant glance, similar to the one from earlier made its way around the table. "There are a few here and there. As long as they do what they can to make sure that they're not a danger to anyone else, they're usually fine. But Harry, I'm afraid that most don't. Almost all of them are in a pack, and will have nothing to do with anybody who's not a were."

"I know. But the last of my dad's friends is a werewolf, and he has such a hard time with society. The only person who'll even give him a job is Dumbledore, and even then he doesn't get enough to do more than eat and put a roof over his head. I'd... I'd like to help him."

Silence met the plea. After a couple of seconds, Simon spoke up. "The full moon was a week ago, he should be fine now. We'll go speak with him tomorrow. I don't really expect anything, it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, no offense intended."

"Alright, I really don't expect much either. He owes Dumbledore so much. But I wouldn't be honoring my dad's and Sirius' memories if I didn't."

There was a slight start from Rod when Sirius' name was mentioned, but Jen gave a look that said 'Don't ask, I'll tell you later,' and nothing was said.

"Alright, well, unless there's anything else, I think we're done for tonight."

"I think I'm good," said the teen.

"Good! Do you know where you'll be staying?"

Harry nodded. "I have a portkey."

"Alright. You should probably get to bed. You look exhausted."

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

Harry said his goodbyes, and took his items in his hands, before activating the stick portkey. Bernard glanced outside, where it had gotten quite dark, and sighed. He'd have to talk with Jen. He didn't want to invade Harry's privacy, but the boy's attitude had taken a drastic turn after their conversation. He needed to know what he was getting himself into.


End file.
